Zod
by josicuervo
Summary: S5 finale postep rewrite. This makes sense too.


He is a man standing on the edge of chaos.

Lord of war, the infallible creator of the end.

A smug smirk twists his lips as the wind swirls his jacket around him, and he leans into it, reveling in the sweet bite of smoke that's tantalizing his senses.

He'd watched the madness as it spread from house to house, street to street, city to city. He'd sat back, enjoying the quick-fire spread of pandemonium, relishing the darkness, the flames; the scented fury of rebellion.

The satisfying thrill of victory runs down his spine as the weak humans continue to wreak havoc all around him, doing his bidding without provocation, proving to be the sheep he always thought them to be.

He watches as the deterioration of allies ensues to the point of there being neither friend nor foe, just utter delectable anarchy for him to feed off of, and he revels in it, perfectly at home in the throes of war.

He laughs to himself, chuckling wryly at the ease in which he took what he wanted. All the gullible humans working so easily into his hands, working diligently to turn the world into the sanctuary of a monster without any thought of repercussions.

It was all just so…perfect.

He hears a noise behind him and quickly schools his features into cool indifference, slowly turning to face the unwanted interruption. He frowns slightly as a young girl moves towards him purposefully, obviously recognizing him for the vessel he inhabits.

The relief evident on her face angers him irrationally, animosity quickly boiling up inside him, his thirst for destruction more powerful than ever. The thought of any human finding relief in his presence left a bitter taste in his mouth, a heavy burden of purity on his dark soul.

This will not do.

He takes a step towards her, sees her lips moving, hears her speaking, smiles devilishly as he takes her head in his hands and leans forward. She doesn't pull away, doesn't fight or struggle – just leans into him – raising her face to his expectantly, a soft sigh igniting the match of fury beneath his skin.

He places his lips on hers, making himself give her what she wants, so he in turn gets what he wants.

To boost her hopes to such heights he'll be able to crush her completely.

And it's then he can hear it.

Somewhere in the distance, a scream pierces the night, echoes in his head, the quick fire cadence penetrating the apathy of a veritable God, momentarily waking the beast within. His heart pounds in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins and infusing his brain with uncontrollable panic. An emotion so foreign to him he knows it's not his own.

He closes his eyes tighter, kisses her harder, trying to escape the heroic pulse awakening within him as the screaming echoes around them. She whimpers faintly, her mouth opening on a gasp as he pushes his tongue into her mouth, ignoring the slight urge to retch against the ambiguousness of true feeling.

He feels the soft skin beneath his hands, the pliant lips beneath his own, swallows the maniacal laugh that threatens to consume him as the panic intensifies.

He pulls back, his vision spotty as his senses try to take hold of his body. He sees her, eyes wide, mouth gaping, a woman-child disguised as an insipid conqueror of man.

"Lex…" she breathes, her hands fumbling for purchase on his coat, her eyes soft with misplaced trust.

He recoils inwardly, her graceless hands on his chest igniting an intense fury within him. The ease in which she ignores the utter turmoil he caused makes him want to inflict pain on her and he wants her to suffer for her own ignorance.

He glares at her, bitter coldness consuming him as her yearning gaze becomes questioning, demanding. "Lex," he responds quietly, his hands grasping her spindly arms and tightening with each threatening word. "Is. Dead."

Her eyes widen in confusion, the quick shift to horror sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. Her mouth opens, shuts, terror closing her throat as his body responds to her distress and he inadvertently pulls her closer to his body.

"Let me go," she whimpers brokenly, pulling against his grip half-heartedly, tears already forming in her doe-like gaze.

He pushes her away from him, releasing her with a jerk. "Kneel before Zod," he commands icily.

Lana gasps, her mouth gaping open further as she stares up at him. "What?" she asks anxiously, her voice weak, her eyes ineffectively blinking back tears.

She's standing before him, hands shaking – the terror in her eyes belaying her defensive stance. He snorts in amusement, exasperated as well as annoyed that one so insignificant would ever be considered at all threatening.

He smiles at her coldly, baring his straight, white teeth, rage blurring his vision as he grabs her by her arms, "Kneel before Zod," he repeats menacingly, squeezing painfully and forcing her to her knees before him.

She screams in pain, her knees automatically buckling as his grip tightens. She bows her head, tears scattering along the ground beneath her as she pleads for flight, her pseudo-defensive behavior quickly making way for unadulterated terror.

He takes a few moments, letting her pleading words bathe him with pleasure, her horrified shudders and whimpers music to his ears. He bends down, taking hold of her arms again and hauling her up against him, forcing her to meet his gaze.

She looks up at him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide and swimming with fearful confusion. Snarling in disgust, he tosses her to the side dismissively, reveling in the sound of her body connecting with wall beside them.

He glances at her prone body, uncaring as to whether or not she's dead or alive. She's of no use to him anyway, already crying and begging for freedom, typical behavior for a human.

He turns away from her, moving once more to the edge of the building and taking his place on the ledge. He's no longer content with the bedlam around him, the anguished screaming conflicting with his animalistic need for war.

He wants it to stop, wants to suppress the urge to seek it out and put an end to the suffering, but he finds he's not able to, the panic is too much – even for him.

A definitive sign that the vessel was vulnerable.

Tainted.

Scowling angrily, he leaves his post, making his way to street level as he follows the voice that seems to grow more desperate with each passing moment. His heart pounds painfully, his pace quickly accelerating as he draws nearer, unable to ignore a visceral urge to protect something as indefinite as the feeling threatening to explode from his chest.

He can only presume that the person behind the screaming must be something special to the body he inhabits, someone so cherished even his very own black soul is unable to ignore the emotional bond. Something as alien to him as he is to those surrounding him.

He makes his way through the streets knowing he's heading towards the cause of his panic, the scream amongst the screams perfectly clear in his minds eye.

He spots a group of ruffians in the distance, seemingly heckling their prey as they swarm around rowdily. He hears the screaming, smirking slightly as he makes out the foul words being spewed in the midst of such danger, amused that whoever this may be, it wasn't a cowardly bore such as the one he'd disposed of earlier.

Curiosity compels him into motion, his speed having him on the group before they realize there's a threat. He takes them out individually, knocking them around until they scatter, quickly ditching any thought of trying to fight him for their victim.

He watches them run, puffing his chest out proudly as they go, self-satisfaction thrumming through him no matter how small the triumph. He turns towards the spitfire before him, taking in every detail he can get and cataloguing it to memory.

She's still sprawled on the ground, her light colored hair messy, dirt streaking her otherwise flawless skin. She's breathing rapidly, her breaths coming out in short pants, her torn clothes revealing a glimpse of what lies beneath.

_Finally, a real woman_… he nods in approval, the vessel's taste in woman improving with the specimen before him.

Her eyes spark furiously as she levels her gaze on him, her brows furrowing in a deep scowl as she covers herself from his leering gaze.

"It's about fucking time, Lex." She growls at him, successfully getting his attention and he raises his eyes from her still heaving breasts to her flushed face. He looks at her impartially, unsure of how he should proceed now that the initial panic has passed.

She doesn't wait for him to respond, just holds her hand out to him, rolling her eyes at him as he peers at it disinterestedly.

She huffs in annoyance, her voice incredulous as she snarls, "For the love of Christ Lex, are you going to help me up or just stand there?"

He cocks his head at her, smirking in amusement as he obligingly grasps her hand in his. "Lex is dead." He replies mildly, mentally bracing himself for her to recoil from his touch, for her to look at him in horror.

But instead her hand tightens on his and she lets him pull her up, gripping his arm to steady herself as gets her bearings. She snorts at him, "And people rejoiced around the world."

He frowns in confusion, his unfamiliarity with being wrong about people's reactions causing some uncertainty in his next step. It had been a long time since anyone dared cross him, ages since someone responded to him differently than anyone else.

He expects anger. Sadness. Fear. But certainly not – this – not mockery.

He grabs her arms, intent on making her do his bidding, but she shakes him off in annoyance, slanting a disdained look his was as she tries to adjust her torn clothing.

"Kneel before Zod," he commands not as firmly as he would've liked.

She stops brushing the dirt from her pants, her hands left unmoving on her leg as she peers up at him in astonishment. She smiles at him slyly, "Baby, I'd do a lot for you, but there's no way I'm going to suck your cock amidst looting and chaos. I'm just not that kind of girl."

He blinks in amazement, not sure exactly what was happening, but completely understanding the implication of her words. Sure he'd been locked up for a long time, but suck and cock were not words any man would forget, especially when used in the same sentence, and beneath it all that's exactly what he is – all man.

She steps towards him, bringing her body flush with his as she leans into him and he feels her breath on his ear as she speaks. "But I'm more than relieved you finally showed up to save me." She pauses, running her lips along his jaw, her eyes focused on his mouth as she continues. "I was beginning to think my last kiss was going to be from the likes of Clark."

He opens his mouth to respond, only to have his words cut off by her lips pressing against his, her tongue already stroking along his bottom lip invitingly.

He gasps in surprise, pleased and taken aback both as she pushes closer to him, her lips, teeth and tongue working aggressively to take what she wants, silently begging for the reaction she desires.

She winds her arms around his neck, using his surprise to her advantage, pulling herself up and tilting her head as she plunders his mouth, all the while actively rubbing her breasts and groin against him.

He feels his body tightening, his most primitive need obscuring his ongoing agenda, another feeling completely foreign to him, something else working its way up from the subconscious of the vessel.

His arms come up around her, instinctively pulling her closer to him, his hands sliding under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back, gripping her tightly and pulling her even closer.

He feels as if his hands are on fire, set ablaze by the infinite heat of her skin and fueled by her obvious passion for him – the vessel.

She purrs contentedly, oblivious to the ongoing turmoil around them as he slides his tongue along hers and plunges into her mouth. She squirms against him and he feels her nipples pressing against his chest, causing a pulse of desire to ricochet through him, the dull throb in his balls further obstructing his perspective.

She pulls back suddenly, her arms loosening slightly without relinquishing her grip on him completely. She eyes him warily, indecision marring her features as she studies him, her tongue flicking out to taste him on her lips.

"You're different," she mutters the words softly, as if only to herself, perhaps not even loud enough for the human ear to pick up on. "Yet still the same."

"What do you mean?" the words slip out unheeded, hoarse and breathless, seeming strange to his own ears. "How can one be different yet still remain the same?"

Her eyes widen in triumph, her mouth curving into a knowing smile. "Clark told me something had changed you and I was certainly skeptical to believe his melodramatic prattling, but just the fact you heard that is proof enough," she says calmly. "Then add into it the fact you're holding me up with no signs of effort, and we officially have different."

It's only then he realizes he's holding her off the ground, his arms holding her securely, keeping them eye-to-eye as they speak. He raises a brow at her, mesmerized by her unflinching calm. "Then what remains the same?"

Her smile fades some, her lips turned up delicately at the corners, her eyes soft with a speaking look he can't quite place. "You look and feel the same, you even taste the same," she states decisively. "And you found me in the midst of pure chaos, without even knowing who I am. To me, that's sufficient evidence that you're still Lex where it counts, and in the end he'll come back to me."

He should kill her. Normally he wouldn't think twice about, but then again, normally he never would've felt inclined to seek out a random scream and most certainly would've never felt an urge to actually save her.

He tightens his arms around her, squeezing to the point he can feel her rib cage start to cave from the crushing pressure. He holds her stare, waiting for her

He can tell he's causing her pain, sees the tension in her face, feels her fingers digging into his neck. But her gaze never wavers and she remains quiet and yielding to his hold, the same nameless softness in her eyes.

She leans into him, placing a soft kiss on his upper lip, an obvious acceptance of whatever fate he has for her, and he finds himself easing up until he's once again hugging her against his chest.

He sighs loudly, having no choice but to believe what she says is true. His inability to eliminate a human – _this _human – a testament to the power the vessel still held over his actions.

"Told you so," she says teasingly. "Eventually, you'll be done wreaking havoc with the world and Lex will be back to having complete control over his body. I guess I'll just have to wait it out."

He gives her his best interpretation of a dry look, saying as noncommittally as possible, "Perhaps."

She rolls her eyes at him, snorting in blatant mockery at his supposed nonchalance, "Well put me down and go about your business so the wait won't be any longer than absolutely necessary."

Slowly he lowers her to the ground, relishing the feel of her body rubbing against his, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and his groan of desire in check.

Finally he releases her and she steps back from him, readjusting her clothing and looking around at their surroundings.

Things had quieted significantly, most of the looters and agitators having had their fill of destruction and either given up or simply moved on. Everything is eerily quiet and the calm seems strangely out of place to him after the violent commotion of earlier.

After what had just transpired between him and the love of the vessel.

He looks down at her and she's smiling at him fondly, "Better move it," she says humorously, her need for the vessel obviously of greater importance than the ruins around them.

Nodding shortly, he turns from her, speeding away until he's out of sight. There he stops, turning to take once final look back.

She's still standing where he left her, proud and beautiful, and he has to stomp down his urge to go back to her, to take her and keep her for his very own.

With a primitive growl he turns away from her again, this time moving away from her without allowing himself another glance.

He has a mission to accomplish.

A silent promise to fulfill.

A future to uphold.

She's a woman waiting on the edge of chaos.

Lady of peace, the mortal temptress of the dawn.

A content smirk twists her lips as the wind swirls around her, and she leans into it, reveling in the sweet bite of smoke that's been pushing her onward.

She'd spent the last few hours taking stock of the destruction around her, slowly walking through the rubble, cautiously picking her way towards safety.

She'd spent countless moments thinking over the events of the past twenty-four hours, until she'd finally run out of information to process, her mind exhausted, her body weary from overexertion.

And that's how she finds herself here; at a high rise penthouse – the only light shining throughout the entire city – her beacon of hope and just more proof that money really can buy a bright future.

She steps up to the door and eyes the inner recesses of the lobby suspiciously. Gauges possible threats without even realizing she's doing so then shakes her head in exasperation when reality emerges complacent.

Snorting at the irony of it all, she enters in the security code, snorting again at the blinking green light declaring her acceptable for admittance.

The lock clicks, the grating sound of metal on metal sending a pleasurable shiver up her spine.

Finds it interesting how every person reacts differently to every situation. Sight, sound, smell – sometimes pleasurable, sometimes not-so-much – always a plethora of varying emotions based on individual memories.

The human mind – what a unique fusion of randomly, contradicting emotions.

Shaking her head at her crazy thoughts, she sighs tiredly and she makes her way to the express elevator. Stops in front of the door and looks at it warily.

She knows the generator system is supposed to be foolproof. She knows Lex would never half-ass something as important as convenience and comfort.

But still, she's doubtful that it's entirely failsafe. Decides to take the stairs, tiredness be damned.

The stairwell is dim, lit only by emergency lights on the wall and it's eerily quiet, a serious switch from the bedlam that ensued beforehand.

She hears each step connecting with the stair beneath her feet; the slow cadence a strange comfort in the dead of night.

By the time she reaches the penthouse she's sweating and out of breath, her fingers tingly from increased blood flow to her extremities. Her legs are tired, the muscles of her thighs burning with exhaustion and she revels in the feeling, a pained reminder that she's still alive.

She quickly enters in the necessary codes to open the door and immediately makes her way to the bathroom, deciding that the necessity of a shower takes precedence over sleep.

_Cleanliness is next to Godliness_…Chloe snickers and the sound seems to echo in the large bathroom, a sharp pang of worry shooting through her as the echo reminds her of what's missing.

Lex.

She peers at herself in the mirror, mildly taken aback by the dirt-streaked, mussed image staring back at her. Momentarily awed to be staring at all.

She works the tangles out of her hair, groaning as her tired muscles balk at the movement. She studies herself further, feeling somewhat silly as she takes a silent inventory, thankful that all her parts are still intact.

She smirks fleetingly at the plump redness of her lips, the sight of her nipples poking through her shirt even though she's still too heated to be cold.

Quickly she rids herself of her clothing, turning the shower on hot and stepping beneath the spray, a hiss of pleasure escaping as the water runs down her body.

She squeezes her legs together, the familiar pulse of desire still churning in her core, primitive urges put on overdrive at the end of a stressful situation.

Primitive urges quickened by a man made even more desirable by an extraterrestrial jolt of unadulterated masculinity.

_She should've sucked his cock._

She stifles a giggle and then moans at the thought, her hands slipping all over her body, need and want pulsing through her as she delves her fingers into her intimate flesh. She rubs her fingers over her sensitive clit, pinching the tight bundle of nerves before stroking her hands back up her body.

She'll wait for him. Deny herself release until he can bring it to her.

Or at least that's what she'll tell him.

She quickly washes herself, exiting the shower and wrapping a large towel around her body. She dries her hair some, but gives up as exhaustion suddenly overwhelms her.

She falls into bed, pulling the blankets up over her and breathing a sigh of relief as her muscles start to relax.

And then she lays in the dark, her mind full of him, her body chilled as loneliness begins to filter in with the moonlight. Taunting her, urging her to the very brink of madness.

Snarling, she gets out of bed, stomping to the window and jerking the heavy drapes shut, throwing the entire room into utter darkness.

Snorting grumpily she fumbles at the armoire, feeling for the electric candle and switching it on, finding mild relief in the golden light that washes over her.

She stumbles back to bed, once again sprawling out and pulling the blanket up over her.

She sighs, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

The last thought in her head being that of Lex; longing, loving – alive.

It's the pulse of desire that awakens her.

Minutes have passed. Hours. Maybe days.

There is no time, no space – just her and the unrelenting throb between her legs.

She stretches, running her hands up her body to cup her breasts, pushing her palms against her nipples and chafing the sensitive peaks.

She kicks the blanket off, sighing as the cool air hits her heated skin, moaning and opening her legs to her seeking hands.

_Fuck._

She touches herself, stroking her fingers along her wet slit and pushing a finger deep inside her channel. She's almost sure she hears his grunt of approval at the sight of her pleasuring herself, the familiar sound sending desire pulsing through her.

_Yes_.

She closes her eyes and imagines him standing in the doorway, his nude body glowing in the candlelit room, his eyes crawling all over her as he prowls closer. He's watching her intently, desire alight in his gaze, his cock erect as he makes his way towards her.

She watches him moving, holding his gaze until he's looming over her deliberately, his eyes focused on her fingers buried in her heat.

_Fuck._

She pulls her hand away from her center, bringing it up to her breast and wiping her slick desire on her distended nipple. She moans loudly, her moist fingers quick on her flesh, grasping, pinching, the sharp thrum of lust shooting from her breasts to her belly, pooling deliciously at her core.

He licks his lips, nostrils flaring as he growls deep in his chest. His hand comes up, his fingers circling tightly around his cock, stroking urgently.

Y_es._

There it is again, this time guttural, desperate – a hot pant against her ear. She writhes with it and closes her eyes tighter, feels him lean over her, pushing her into the mattress with the weight of his body.

She raises her arms over her head, silently pleading for ravishment, surrendering herself to the will of a phantom lover.

She wants it, needs it, the pulsing of her body a beacon of lust calling him home to her.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_.

Consciousness comes slowly and she tries to block it out. She squeezes her eyes shut against wakefulness until dreams fade to veracity; the hand on her breast becoming larger, rougher; the heat against her neck hotter, wetter.

She opens her eyes, gradually releasing the remnants of fantasy only to be sucked in by the electricity of reality.

She's momentarily startled, disoriented by the subtle differences in his body language and she struggles briefly, rapt with a need to run from the stranger before her.

He seems heavier. Larger and even more solid than before. He's ruthless and thrumming with cold detachment. His eyes seeming to stare right through her.

But she hears his rasping breath and smells the familiar, musky scent of his desire.

She hears his broken, heated pleas of lust.

Relaxes into the mattress, her pliant form open for the taking – consequences be damned.

Her hands are over her head, held in the steel-like grip of a primal beast, eyes glinting down at her in frenzied desire as he strokes his hands over her body.

He watches her intently, visceral softness dueling with the razor-like precision of a God.

She tries to relax, attempts to ignore the foreign look in his eyes, the unnatural feel of his hands on her body.

His fingers are rough, marking her, branding her.

His hand tightens on her wrists, squeezing to the point of pain.

His face is a hard mask of indifference, his eyes alert and watching her every move.

She whimpers and begins to struggle, gasping as his free hand rubs over her breasts, his finger pinching and twisting her nipples. She gasps loudly, torn between arousal and fear.

Acceptance and refusal one and the same.

Her eyes tear as his grip tightens further, but she forces them open wanting to meet the vacant gaze of her lover.

She wants to give in, to accept what he's giving her. But part of her wants to refuse, to deny this part of him, to hide in the dream world she's just woken from.

He twists her breast again and she yelps in pain, faintly aware of the answering heat in his gaze as pain radiates from her chest.

She frowns slightly, ignoring the pain and instead focusing on the puzzle laid out before her.

_So it's like that_…

She growls low in her throat, relaxing beneath him and arching into his touch, pushing her tingling nipple against his palm. She suppresses a smile as he balks, the shift slight, yet glaringly obvious in light of his rigid control. She mews softly, almost purring as she rubs against him, turning her body slightly and rubbing against his pelvis.

She feels his cock, hard and pulsing against her hip, and she rubs against it, reveling in the smooth hardness digging into her flesh.

Again, she struggles against his hold on her wrists, this time moaning yearningly instead of whimpering, and he releases her almost instantly.

She reaches out to him, running her hands down his torso. She strokes a path to his front, wrapping one hand around his cock and bringing the other up to cup his balls firmly. She squeezes both hands to the point where pleasure and pain are lost in sensation, then tugs, urging him closer.

"Fuck." The words spill from his lips, his voice pleading and almost desperate as his hands move down her body, one stroking along her stomach and delving between her legs, the other stopping to tease her tight nipples.

His hands are everywhere, her shoulders, breasts, dipping between her legs, pushing inside her heat.

His touch is hard and unyielding, but his face is flushed with heat, his eyes burning into hers, his teeth bared and his nostrils flaring.

She knows he's still not right. She sees it in his eyes and the hard, unforgiving line of his jaw.

Ignores it by putting her focus on what remains familiar.

She moans, opening her legs further, relishing the feel of his fingers inside her, pushing, stretching, stroking. She bucks into his hand, rubbing her clit on the heel of his palm, taking his fingers deeper.

"Yes," he hisses, his breath hot on her neck, his hips moving with her stroking hands.

He rears up suddenly, pushing her hands away as he moves between her legs. Lines his cock up with her wet entrance and rubs the tip of his length against her wet heat. Circles around her clit before barely sinking into her.

She feels the head of his cock stretching her and she moans softly, small jolts of pleasure pulsing in her core. She bucks against him, taking him in further.

He pushes into her; a guttural groan escaping as he slowly sheathes his hard substance in her clinging channel.

He doesn't hesitate, doesn't allow her any time to adjust to his length.

Immediately pumps his hips, his pace hard and fast and unrelenting.

She gasps, noting the slight difference in his movement, his typical finesse skewed by subtle detachment.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind, instead shifting her focus to his eyes, familiar and intense.

She whimpers as his cock moves inside her, bringing her legs up and bending her knees, placing her feet on his biceps. She pushes against him, lifting her ass up to better receive his thrusts, intent on giving him pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans again, shifting forward and grasping her by her hips, raising himself up on his knees and pulling her up higher.

She moans in pleasure, suppressing the silly urge to giggle as her entire lower body is raised off the bed. She reaches her hands out, grabbing at the mattress on both sides of her for some semblance of balance.

He pumps his hips, embedding his cock deep inside her before effortlessly moving her away from him, using his grip on her hips to add to the impact of his calculated thrusts.

He moves against her powerfully, shaking the bed beneath them with the force of his rutting, the wet slapping of their bodies echoing throughout the room.

There's no emotion, just animal lust moving inside her and she incapable of refusing, unable to do anything other than pant and moan beneath him.

He drives into her rhythmically, and she tightens around him, her intimate muscles the only part of the action she's able to control.

Quickly becomes so focused on her lack of control, she knows she won't be able to come.

Is momentarily distracted by her relief.

"Lex," the word comes out unconsciously, but she's unable to stop his name from continuously falling from her lips, "Lex, Lex, Lex, Lex," her need an undeniable chant with every breath.

He thrusts into her again, then stops, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. "Chloe," he gasps brokenly, his cock pulsing, throbbing – the veins in his neck standing out tensely as he tries to hold himself back.

She starts at the sound of her name on his lips, instinctively squeezing her inner muscles around him, bucking her hips and riding him as best she can from her suspended position.

"Lex," she gasps, her stomach and thigh muscles burning, her heart pounding in her chest.

He eases his grip on her hips, slowly lowering her ass to the bed, exhaustion evident in his movements as he shudders above her. "Chloe."

She's unable to take her eyes off his face, his blue-gray eyes seeing right into her soul; sweet desperation awash with pleasure.

"Chloe," he gasps again, silently surrendering to her body, his eyes naked, burning into her.

She sobs as he comes, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down on top of her. She holds him tightly for fear he'll leave her again. Breathes a sigh of relief as he returns her desperate embrace.

She loses track of how long they remain quiet, their mingled panting the only sound in the room, their pounding hearts reverberating off one another.

Then she hears his voice, once again familiarly comforting.

"Chloe?" he breathes into her ear questioningly. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she replies breathlessly. "Everything."

"One minute I'm in Clark's barn and the next I'm here, with you," he chokes, his voice caught between a groan and a chuckle. "_In_ you."

She chuckles dryly, "Are you saying you'd rather be in Clark's barn?"

"Fuck, no."

"Good." She answers softly, running her hands down his face gently.

He seems calm, his face relaxed, his arms resting on either side of her head. But she feels the underlying tension, the coiled energy twisting inside of him as he tries to fight off the lingering adrenaline.

So she asks, "Do you remember anything?"

"Bits and pieces," his words are soft, slightly hesitant. "Here and there. But nothing definite, mostly just feelings and not actual events."

Her brow creases thoughtfully, "What kind of feelings?"

He sighs, leaning over her and bracing his upper body on his forearms. "Fury. Disgust. Utter panic. Desire. Absolute nothingness."

She feels his cock, still hard inside her, pulsing, throbbing, triggering her inner muscles to grip him uncontrollably.

She feels the slight tremor in his arms, the steady push of his pelvis against her center.

He adjusts over her and she stifles a moan as pleasure courses through her.

"You fucked him." There's no question, just fact, his tone calm, his body coiled and ready. "Was he so much different from me?"

She chokes in shock, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. "That was still you, Lex."

"My body, maybe, but that was not me," he sneers, the tension in his body becoming almost unbearable. "Unless you consider me to be that kind of monster."

She puts her hands under his arms, running her hands down his back to his ass, squeezing him, pulling him deeper into her body.

She clenches around him, rocking her hips, riding him from below, turning her face towards him and painting his lips with her hot breath.

With a ragged groan he drops his head, his breath hot on her neck. He's still holding his upper body off of her with his arms, but the shift brings his lower body even closer, heavier, deeper.

"He may have been using your body, but it was you I was fucking – always you."

He groans again, low in his throat, rearing up suddenly, forcing her to release him as he straightens his arms. He eases his pelvis back, pulling out of her until just the head of his cock remains inside her, his eyes intent on her face.

"Only me," the words are whispered, barely audible.

Then he's pushing back into her, driving downward, pushing her into the mattress.

She grunts in surprise, once again bringing her hands over her head, grasping the headboard for leverage against his measured thrusts.

She closes her eyes, moaning and whimpering as he pumps into her, his short, powerful thrusts pushing into her g-spot.

"Look at me," he rasps, panting with need as he continues to pump his hips. "Look at me while I fuck you."

She doesn't want to.

She wants to refuse, to turn her head to the side and squeeze her eyes shut in denial.

But she can't.

Her body responds to the vulnerable need behind his words, the throbbing at her center intensifying, leaving her with no other choice but to yield to his unrelenting heat.

She opens her eyes, a ragged groan torn from her lips as their gazes clash, his eyes hot and desperate, triumphantly primal.

She tries to scowl at him, but fails and instead whimpers, her legs coming up off the bed to wrap around his hips, letting him sink deeper inside her.

"Who's fucking you?" his voice is rough, almost pleading, his face twisting with effort and emotion.

"Eh…Lex…" she manages to force an answer from her lips, wanting to please him, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable as it coils up inside her.

She watches him watching her, wants to wrap herself around him and never let go.

"Did you come?" the words are strained and faint, but his eyes are intent on her face. "Did you come for him?"

"No, no." she pants, sure she's about to shatter all around him. "Only for you."

"Who's going to make you come?" he rasps, his hips moving slow and hard, his arms shaking with effort.

"Eh…eh….fuck…" she chokes on her response, her hands pushing forcefully against the headboard, meeting his thrusts as the tension peaks. "Fuck…Lex…" she finally manages to shriek his name, intense sensation boiling up inside her, peaking, cresting.

"Come for me," he commands breathlessly, sweat dripping down his face, eyes heavy-lidded with unrestrained lust. He repeats the command, "Come for me," his words softer, more needy as he gazes down at her. He plunges into her, his lower pelvis connecting continuously with her clit, pushing against her, pushing her over the edge.

She convulses as pleasure explodes at her center and she writhes beneath him, riding him, pushing her clit against him harder, drawing out her orgasm as he pulses inside her.

"Chloe," the word is desperate, emotion overflowing as his cock throbs and she feels the spasms inside her as he comes.

She sobs, reaching up and pulling him down on top of her. She finds his mouth with hers. Lips, teeth and tongue devouring him as he shudders over her.

Eventually breaking apart and holding on to each other tightly.

It's is voice at her ear that eventually startles her back to reality, "Was it really me?"

"Yes, Lex, I _know_ it was you."

"How?" he asks softly.

She sighs, not wanting to continue such a ridiculous conversation, almost annoyed that he's making such a big deal out of something so irrelevant.

But she hears the almost vulnerable tone in his voice.

Feels the soft shudder of his body on top of her.

Knows she has no choice.

Tells him, "Because of what you said just as you came."

"What'd I say?"

She smiles against his neck.

Whispers, "Chloe."


End file.
